


The Sign of Five

by Lirillith



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Gen, Pre-Relationship, Serial Killers, Weird Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-22 00:08:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1568819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lirillith/pseuds/Lirillith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With some hobbies, it's harder than with others to find someone who can relate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sign of Five

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lightningwaltz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightningwaltz/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy it! :D The choice is yours as to whether this is normal-Hope's-Peak-AU or just pre-canon.

I.

"Whoa, creepy." Sonia recognized Koizumi's voice, but she hadn't even heard the photographer enter the room; she probably would have jumped even if she hadn't been examining a folder of crime scene photos. "Sorry," Koizumi added, sheepishly.

"It's quite all right! You just startled me."  Which was a bit silly, considering that she was in the main room of the library, where anyone could come and go as they pleased.  "I suppose I was absorbed in the creepy photos."

"It's not like I think _you're_ creepy," Koizumi explained. "I don't really get the appeal, but..."

"No? But I thought crime was a great preoccupation for ordinary citizens! That was the reason I began reading about criminals at first. My interest in the most bizarre crimes is all about personal preference, of course, but that was the origin."

"I guess there is kind of a... train-wreck fascination, sometimes?" There must have been; Koizumi kept glancing down uneasily at the photo on top, a man lying face-down on a nondescript tile floor, ten separate blades protruding from his back. Sonia closed the folder. "And crime scares people, so if you're nervous, or paranoid, you think about it a lot, and feel like you might be next."

"Yet the whole reason that serial killers are fascinating is that they're so unusual and rare!"

"I didn't say it made sense!" Koizumi smiled to soften her words, and Sonia chuckled. "Besides, I'm not the best person to explain why commoners obsess about crime, since I don't. I could never be a crime scene photographer."

"No?"

"I mean, it's important, documenting crime scenes. Just like being a war reporter is important. I just don't think I could do it. I like to show people smiling. It's too easy to remember sad things. It's good to have a reminder of being happy, so you can look back on it and bring back some of that feeling."

"That's true, of course," Sonia said. "And even I sometimes need to take a break from serial killers and horror films and the occult."

"Just once in a while." They both laughed again. "Like for meals? I just came to remind you the dining hall closes in an hour, since no one's seen you all day."

"I suppose I lost track of time," Sonia admitted. For good reason; she was on the trail of a really interesting lead. But it would still be there after she'd eaten; the victims would become no less dead in an hour or so.

 

II.

It wasn't often that any other students entered the library's archive room, let alone two at once; Sonia smiled welcomingly at them, as if she were their hostess. Kuzuryuu looked as though he might turn and leave again, but Pekoyama, with a small smile, said, "I hope we're not disturbing you. I didn't know anyone would be in here."

"Not at all!" Sonia assured her. "I spent a great deal of time in here. So many of the documents are _fascinating._ Nothing intended for publication — I'm really surprised to find them in a high school, even this one!"

"Yeah, that's why we're here," Kuzuryuu said. He shuffled behind Peko; he seemed to be trying to look at the documents on the shelves without being noticed. He was really very bad at being stealthy.

"They're almost all in very formal and official Japanese, so they're difficult for me, but the Genocider Syo case file alone! The more I look at it, the more I'm convinced that the Kirigiri theory is correct and the culprit must be a young woman." Even the official investigators had conceded that the culprit was likely under 170 centimeters in height, but that didn't rule out a man, after all.  Kuzuryuu himself was significantly shorter than that.  Controversially, though, the independent profiler, Shun Kirigiri — Sonia had never been able to determine if he was any relation to the headmaster, but she didn't think it was a common name — maintained that the killer was likely female. Maybe it was wishful thinking on Sonia's part, but she was inclined to believe it now; the report indicated that Kirigiri had access to all of these files, including confidential police information.

"That's... uh, that's nice," Kuzuryuu said, looking over Sonia's head.

"Is that unusual?" Pekoyama asked, stepping forward as if to look at the book in Sonia's hands. Behind her, Kuzuryuu turned to the bookshelf. Sonia obligingly turned her attention to Pekoyama so that Kuzuryuu would feel free to browse somewhat unobserved.

"It's very unusual! Genocider Syo is a classic serial killer — all the victims are killed the same way, the bodies are arranged and left in public, the killer leaves messages, the victims fit a consistent profile — he's like a Jack the Ripper for Japan!  That's not at all the way female serial killers usually operate. Women are much more likely to kill for material gain or kill those close to them. Even someone like Aileen Wuornos maintained that most of her killings were self-defense. So the idea that a textbook serial killer like Genocider Syo might be a young woman is really exciting!" She noticed that Pekoyama's eyes were fixed on one of the gruesome crime scene photos. "And terrible," she added.

"They're pinned up by those scissors?" Pekoyama asked.

"Yes!" Sonia began paging through the report for Pekoyama. "That's how they can make an estimate as to the killer's height. The scissors are almost all stabbed in from below, and when they're not, the police have usually found something nearby that could be used as a stepstool.  Kirigiri Shun believes the stabbings and the display of the corpses both have a sexual element— are you all right?

"I don't feel so well," Pekoyama said. "I may just need some air."

"I'm sorry! The photos are probably a bit much for most people. I'll see you to the nurse's office."

Pekoyama didn't put up much of a fuss about that, though Sonia had half-expected she'd insist she was fine. And Kuzuryuu, though he'd come to the archive with her, remained behind as Sonia escorted Pekoyama out of the library.  A ploy, then?

"What does he want that's such a secret?" Sonia asked, as they made the turn of the stairwell. "Everyone knows he's a yakuza member."

"I don't interfere in his business," Pekoyama said primly. "I just assist when he allows it."

"Do you really need to go to the nurse?"

"My head hurts a bit," Pekoyama admitted. "If I couldn't take the sight of blood, though, I wouldn't be much of a swordswoman."

At least not the type of swordswoman who spent most of her time with a touchy, temperamental yakuza heir, Sonia thought, but it would be rude to imply that Pekoyama killed people, so she just smiled sweetly as she opened the door to the infirmary for her classmate.

 

III.

"Oh! Sonia-san!" Tsumiki looked almost guilty, as though she'd been surprised in the midst of something sinister, rather than studying history. Sonia wasn't sure what, _other_ than studying, she was supposed to do while minding the nurse's office.

"Hello!" Sonia said, trying to sound as cheerful as she could. She wasn't sure there was much she could do to put Tsumiki at ease, but even with her head pounding like this, she felt compelled to try; the legacy of a mother who'd made a point of learning the name of each and every member of the palace staff. "I just came to get something for a headache?"

"You've been having a lot of those lately, haven't you?" Tsumiki said. For once, she didn't sound timid.

"Ah... once or twice this week?"

"And twice last week as well."

Sonia braced herself for a lecture, though she couldn't guess at the subject, but Tsumiki went to unlock the medicine cabinet instead. It wasn't until Sonia had taken the little paper cup and the pills that Tsumiki, looking almost stern, continued. "You've been reading in that little archive room, haven't you?"

"I don't want to disturb everyone else by taking my reading material out into the main library room..." Which made it sound as though she were afraid she read too loudly, somehow, but she wasn't sure if explaining her leisure activities to Tsumiki would just alarm the poor girl. 

"But it's so dark in there. You're probably giving yourself eyestrain — and if you don't have a comfortable place to sit, neck strain as well. No wonder you're getting headaches."

Sonia made a mental note to just buy some aspirin to keep in her room. "I suppose... But there's really no other option. Some of these photos are very gruesome."

"As the head of the school health committee, I order you to read in the library with a lamp. Not everyone is going to be disturbed by a little blood, anyway."

"Um... a little blood?" She hadn't expected this kind of sentiment from Tsumiki, of all people. Then again, Tsumiki might not realize that anything more than a little blood was in question. "I'd offer to show you what I mean, but..."

"I'm a nurse! I can handle the sight of blood and injuries."

"Come with me, then."

 

IV.

"Ooh! Elizabeth Bathory!" Mioda exclaimed. Surprised, Sonia lowered her book. On doctor's orders — or rather, Tsumiki's orders — she was taking a partial break from crime scene reports and cold cases in favor of more sedate, less illustrated published materials, and the occasional report from cult deprogrammers. Things without visible corpses, that she could read in public. "Ibuki looked up the name when she was really into metal," she explained.

"Oh, of course! I think I remember hearing of a song, or a band...?"

"Because it's not creepy at ALL for a princess to read about another princess who _drank girls' blood,"_ Saionji observed loudly to no one in particular. Sonia sighed. This had been going on since the beginning of the term. She'd been trying her utmost not to take offense at snide remarks from someone who needed to rest her feet on a box when she sat in her school desk, but it was difficult sometimes.

"She was a countess, in fact," Sonia said. "And the story that she bathed in blood is unsubstantiated."

"That makes it all better, then." Saionji sniffed. "I'm going to go get some snacks. C'mon, Ibuki, or she'll drain your blood too."

"Kyaa! Ibuki needs her blood!" She flashed a grin at Sonia — apologetic or just cheeky, Sonia couldn't tell — as she bailed off the desk on which she'd been perched and took off after the shorter girl.

The deep chuckle that followed their departure surprised her; lost in her reading, she hadn't noticed which students had left the classroom and which had stayed. "Ironic, that the tiny bully should heap such scorn on a mere enthusiast, when she, herself, has _far_ more in common with these killers."

Unfortunately, not for the first time, she wasn't entirely sure what Tanaka meant. "I'm sure she doesn't bathe in blood!" Which was probably just a legend anyway, but it was what most people were likely to know of. Possibly even Saionji.

"Do your serial killers not frequently begin their slayings with helpless animals?"

Sonia beamed at him, and he frowned. "Yes, exactly! I see what you mean now!" Admittedly, Sonia wasn't entirely sure Saionji had moved on to vertebrates, but Tanaka would obviously be concerned about such things. And possibly more aware of them, as well. Had Saionji moved beyond tormenting insects and snails? Or was her cruelty to those creatures warning sign enough?

Tanaka was still frowning, and she realized she'd sounded altogether too chipper for the subject at hand. "Not that I approve!" she added hastily. He seemed to relax somewhat, and a hamster poked its head out of his scarf. "She hasn't done anything to your hamsters, has she?"

"The _temporary_ forms of my dark deities remain unharmed," he said. "And were she to attempt some assault, they would pay back her temerity a _thousand_ -fold!"

"Good for them!" She clasped her hands together. "Tanaka-san, I've been meaning to ask you something, if you think you'd be all right looking at some crime scene photos?" She hadn't promised to avoid the archive entirely, just to stop spending hours in there. And this was the perfect opportunity.

He gave that laugh of his, sort of "hm-hm-hmm" or "fu-fu-fu," maybe. "If _mundane_ violence troubled me..."

That wasn't really an answer, but he didn't seem inclined to finish the sentence. "It's not entirely mundane.  It's not _very_ occult, though.  It's in the library's archive room, if you're free now."

 

V.

"Indeed, the link to the Ten of Swords seems clear," he agreed. He kept glancing away from the photo, then back to it. Sonia quietly turned it over.

"There are others, too — there's no blood in the next one," she added. "I think it's the Hanged Man, and there's another that looks like the Devil card. Most serial killers kill their victims in the same way each time, but the tarot theme makes me think all of these are the work of the same killer. What do you think?"

"In _this_ matter, I defer to your expertise," he said. "I assure you, if the killer were adept in the dark arts, the police forces of this world would have no _hope_ of apprehending them!"

"I'm not sure they do as it is," Sonia said ruefully. "I don't think they've even linked the Ten of Swords murder to the other two. Do you think they'd listen to me if I contacted them?"

"The earthly investigators? They would be fools to refuse your assistance."

"Oh, I'm so glad you think so! I should go call them right now!"

"Ah... yes. Of course."

She thought he might have sounded a little downcast. Possibly. Maybe. "But before I go — Tanaka-san, do you think the killer might have been attempting some kind of ritual sacrifice?" She pulled out the photo of the crime scene she thought of as the Hanged Man — he'd been strangled, but he was posed with one leg crossed behind the other, hands behind his back. To most he wouldn't at all seem to have been hanged.

"Hmm... an intriguing possibility... But a _competent_ sorcerer would have left no trace to be discovered by mortal eyes, and any worthy of _respect_ would have challenged another adept, instead of hunting a mere powerless mortal. Your killer may have _some_ knowledge of the arcane, but this is no true master."

"Yes, of course — and this isn't much of a pattern, after all.  Two major arcana, one minor arcana, and the ten of swords is very negative, while the Hanged Man is really much more..."  It was one of those moments when the right word in the right language escaped her.  "Not negative?"

"Almost the work of a frustrated novice," he mused aloud.  "As an infant, I cut my first teeth upon a tarot deck." 

"Really?" She wasn't even sure if it was a figure of speech in Japanese or not.  Even if he didn't mean it literally, though, he must have had a very interesting childhood.  "I'd love to hear more about that sometime!"

"Hm hm hmm... my birth and early years are not a tale for the faint of heart, she-cat."

"Do I seem that faint of heart?"  She closed the folder; she knew where the other relevant photo was, but if she could learn more about Tanaka's unusual upbringing, or his thoughts on the occult, that would be more than enough of a consolation prize for the lack of insight on this serial murderer she thought she'd found.  "They'll shoo us out of the library soon. Maybe we could go to your room to talk? Or you could come to mine."

He looked not just stunned, but thoroughly aghast. Oh, yes, of course — the students here seemed very touchy about visiting the dorm rooms of the opposite sex. "Or we could go somewhere else to talk!" she continued brightly. "I don't often get a chance to speak to anyone with firsthand knowledge of the occult, let alone someone as experienced as you are!"

He ducked his face into his scarf just as the tip of his nose began to grow pink. Whatever he'd intended to say ended up as a flustered mumble into the purple wool, but he waited for her to tidy and tuck away her photos and folders, and he escorted her wordlessly from the library.


End file.
